


Barking Up the Right Tree

by calvinahobbes



Category: Wilfred (US)
Genre: Furry, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-01
Updated: 2011-08-01
Packaged: 2017-10-21 22:56:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,612
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/230773
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/calvinahobbes/pseuds/calvinahobbes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She rushes down the sidewalk and into her car and is gone. Ryan stares after her. Then he stares at the guy in the dog suit. The guy in the dog suit stares back.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Barking Up the Right Tree

**Author's Note:**

> CONTAINS: A man in a fur suit. Suicide attempt, and potentially unrealistic depiction of depression. Some IC ableist language wrt. mental health, some mysogynistic language. No easy fix-its, but an optimistic ending.
> 
> NOTE: This fic was originally 600 words long. I have since updated this entry with an additional 4,000 words. The original version can be found in [this Dreamwidth entry](http://calvinahobbes.dreamwidth.org/58767.html).
> 
> This is a ficlet that grew out of a comment convo with skuf. Basically we both feel that [Wilfred](http://www.imdb.com/title/tt1703925/) is a really strange show, and that the producers could have learned a lot from [Mr Boots](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TGSmpOKQjR0) (YouTube link; Dharma & Greg clip). This might make sense even if you haven't seen the show (don't watch the show, it is awful).
> 
> Many thanks to kiki_eng for thoughtful beta.

Ryan is busy trying to die when his door bell rings. Okay, so maybe busy is a bit of an understatement considering it's been hours since he downed the pills and he's still not feeling anything except nausea and a vague sense of unease. Which is nothing new. Really, he expected dying to be different. Faster. More efficient. With less vomiting.

He considers not opening the door at all, but whoever it is is just holding the button down, and the sound is not conducive to a somber suicide atmosphere. He sighs and gets up.

"Hi! I'm _SO_ sorry to bother you!" It's the beautiful blonde woman across the street. Of course it is. And Ryan has vomit on his best tie. Except it hardly matters now that he's dying. Her blinding smile falters a little as she gets a good look at him. "I'm Jenna. Across the street?" She hooks a thumb that way.

He zones out a bit while she's talking. She sure has a lot to say. He tries listening, and he thinks it might be something about a dog and anxiety and an errand and could he...?

Ryan nods. "Sure, I can watch him, I guess..." He thinks he's feeling better, which makes him feel so much worse.

Jenna squeezes his shoulder in thanks and calls out behind her. "Come on, Wilfred, come on."

Ryan blinks. Then he blinks again. And again. But no matter how much he tries, he's still seeing a guy in a really bad fur suit that might look sort of like a dog, if dogs generally had lumpy polyester fur and were 5'9" and walked on their hind legs.

"Alright, Wilfred, behave! I'll be back real soon." She reaches up and rubs behind his ear, and the dog-- person-- guy musters a sad-looking grin. She rushes down the sidewalk and into her car and is gone. Ryan stares after her. Then he stares at the guy in the dog suit. The guy in the dog suit stares back.

Then the guy shoulders past him into the living room. Ryan thinks for a minute before he shuts the door. Yup. He's pretty sure what just happened qualifies as 'weird'.

His strange guest takes a dejected-looking tour around the room before he sits down on his haunches in the middle of the floor and looks up at Ryan. Ryan thinks this might be what an out-of-body experience feels like.

"You've actually come at a really bad time," he says, not really sure if he should make eye contact. "I was just about to kill myself." Wilfred is quiet. "So... aren't you gonna comment on that?" Wilfred looks at him. "Oh, right," Ryan says, feeling faint still, "I guess dogs don't talk."

He goes to sit on the couch. The room is spinning a little bit, but he doesn't think it's from the drugs. He sighs. There's a whisper of sound and when he looks down, Wilfred is sitting at his feet. He's breathing quietly, gazing up at Ryan with large soulful eyes, and for a few moments they sit like that. Then Wilfred scooches closer, a little carefully, and puts his chin on Ryan's knee.

Ryan's had a pretty shitty day. Week, in fact. No, month. Make that life, actually. He looks at Wilfred and he thinks about his own urge to check out, leave the mess for other people to deal with. In a way, he figures, being a dog for a little while seems like the sane option.

He rests his hand on Wilfred's head, the fur scratching his palm slightly. "Good boy," he mumbles, and Wilfred sighs.

***

It's a little weird at first. That's probably not surprising, but Ryan thinks about how Jenna seems to be taking the whole thing in stride, so apparently some people aren't phased as easily as Ryan is. Jenna's cool. Ryan's... not.

They mainly just hang out on the couch. After a while Wilfred curls up by his feet, and Ryan spaces out while he thinks about whether or not Wilfred is allowed on the furniture back home. Then he tries to tell himself that Wilfred is not actually a dog and is totally allowed on the couch at any time. He sleeps for a little while, until Wilfred wakes him by nudging his hand. At least he's not licking it, Ryan thinks idly, as he studies the guy at his feet.

"What?" he says, and his voice sounds really rusty. His mouth tastes like dead squirrel. Wilfred crawls towards the kitchen and gives him an expectant look. When Ryan doesn't move he actually gives a bark. Ryan blinks slowly. It's a pleasant sound, though, a deep-timbered 'ruff', not some loud yip. He clambers to his feet and tries not to think about the fact that there's a guy crawling around on his kitchen floor.

In the kitchen, Wilfred scrabbles at the counter, up on his knees. Before he can even think about it, much less stop himself, Ryan cries "No, Wilfred, down!" in a surprisingly decisive voice and pushes Wilfred away.

He pauses. Wilfred looks up at him expectantly. Ryan rubs the back of his neck. "I don't, uh, have any food. At all. On account of the suicide?" Wilfred sits down. "You want water?" Of course, there's no reply. Ryan stares a little longer. "In a bowl?"

Wilfred gets up, his tail wagging. He has a tail. It's wagging back and forth behind him. Ryan turns away, stares at the cupboards. He opens one slowly, and by a stroke of luck he finds a wide, shallow bowl. He fills it nearly to the brim and puts it on the floor. Wilfred drinks the water, lapping daintily at first and then slurping more messily.

Ryan leans against the counter and looks at him. Maybe he feels a little tremor of... something, he doesn't know what. Wilfred was thirsty, and Ryan gave him water. His mouth twitches and he realizes he might be smiling. The whole thing is absurd, really. He gives a laugh, and Wilfred startles, sloshing water on the floor and looking up at him with dark eyes.

"Sorry," Ryan says gently, "drink your water."

But Wilfred comes over, dripping water on the floor and leans against Ryan's leg, and Ryan reaches down to scratch him behind his floppy ear. Then he feels a little weird again, but Wilfred's taking off towards the hallway, sniffing along the floor as if he's exploring. Ryan leaves him to it and goes to clean himself up a little.

The door bell rings and Wilfred barks. Ryan shouts, "Quiet!" For a moment he's frozen. What if it's his sister? What if it's the mailman? What if it's a total stranger, and he opens the door, and Wilfred comes charging at them? Wilfred barks again, scrabbling at the door, and Ryan rushes to stop him. His pulse rate drops considerably when he sees Jenna through the door spy.

When he opens the door, Wilfred pounces. Jenna laughs and ruffles his ears. "You're perky! Did you have a nice time? Huh?" Wilfred rolls over. Ryan slides a little out of the way. Jenna laughs again and crouches to rub his belly. "Everything work out okay?" she asks, looking up at him.

Ryan shrugs. "Yeah, no, it was... good."

Jenna gets up, smiling. "I am so thankful to you. He's been in such a bad mood lately. Haven't you boy? Yes, you have!" Wilfred looks about ready to faint from adoration. Ryan feels like he's intruding. "I'm so glad you get it, Ryan. I just had a feeling you would."

Ryan has a million questions. He wants to know exactly what about him screams "guy who will roleplay dog owner". He wants to know whether Jenna and Wilfred are... dating. He doesn't say anything.

"Come on, Wilfred, say goodbye to Ryan," Jenna says cheerfully.

"Bye, Wilfred," Ryan says faintly. Wilfred gets up and crosses the street with Jenna. Ryan goes back inside the house. It's quiet. In the kitchen, the bowl is still standing in a small puddle of water.

***

The next time Ryan sees Wilfred, he almost doesn't recognize him. This is because Wilfred is wearing jeans and sneakers and a T-Shirt that says "Relax, I'm hilarious". He's sitting at a café table with Jenna. Ryan is coming to pick up a sandwich to go, but he freezes and considers not going in. Then Jenna spots him.

"Ryan! Hi!" She waves him over, and he goes. Slowly. "Are you here to meet someone?"

Ryan tears his eyes way from Wilfred, who's just looking at him. "Uh, n-no, I'm just getting a sandwich."

"Oh! We just ordered. Why don't you join us?"

Ryan is already backing away. "No, that's fine, I'll just--"

"Ah, come on, man, plunk your arse down." Ryan stares. Wilfred has an Australian accent. And sounds kind of abrasive. He plunks his ass down.

Jenna is smiling and waving the waiter over. Ryan manages to order a coke and a tuna sandwich. "So, Ryan, what do you do?" she asks.

"Um, nothing much. I'm unemployed."

"Aw, that sucks. It's such a drag not being able to find a job. That's why I gotta jump every time they call. This economy, huh?" she laughs, and Ryan is sort of amazed that someone can be so cheerful. Distantly he wonders whether she's medicated.

"Um, no, it's more that I have crippling onsets of depression and agoraphobia," he says.

Jenna makes a sympathetic cooing sound but otherwise doesn't comment.

"Cheer up, mate," Wilfred says. "Better to just get the most of it. Screw steady jobs, that's for pussies."

"Wilfred!" Jenna remonstrates, slapping him on the shoulder.

"What, just saying it like it is," Wilfred shrugs and leans back, blatantly ogling a beautiful woman walking past the café.

Ryan is totally weirded out. Then his sandwich arrives and he gets to eat it quietly while Jenna babbles cheerfully and Wilfred curses a blue streak through every topic they come across.

Ryan goes home and sits on his couch and thinks about the loud, obnoxious Wilfred he met at the café and the dejected, utterly silent Wilfred in the fur suit. After a while it gives him a headache.

***

He sees Jenna around sometimes, but Wilfred's not to be seen, and he wonders whether maybe he's taken off. Or maybe Ryan dreamed the whole thing. Maybe the pills made him hallucinate.

But then one day the door bell rings, and Ryan has a vague thought that it might be Jenna looking for a 'dog' sitter again. But when he opens the door, Wilfred is there alone, wearing his dog suit and looking tired. Ryan looks behind him, but he can't see Jenna anywhere. Her car isn't in the driveway.

He moves aside quietly, and Wilfred comes inside, flopping onto his hands and knees in a fluid motion as he crosses the threshold. Ryan closes the door. Wilfred curls up by the couch, in the exact same spot he was in last time. Ryan goes to fill the water bowl.

***

After that, Wilfred comes over regularly. Jenna's with him the first time, asking politely if it would be okay. Ryan says sure. "He takes off sometimes, so you gotta watch him," she admonishes, and Ryan has no idea how to reply to that. She's brought a bag of toys and gives instructions on how to feed him. "He'll have whatever you're having, just cut it up in bites, and he'll be fine." Ryan really doesn't like contemplating Wilfred eating mac and cheese on the floor.

The first few times, Wilfred is mostly quiet. He sleeps a lot, curled up in his spot, and drinks some water, and then he goes home. Ryan has absolutely no idea what he should do. At one point he considers going online and finding some dog activities to motivate him, but then he reminds himself that Wilfred is not a dog. If he wants activities, he can damn well say so.

And eventually Wilfred does say so. On his fifth visit he goes to get a toy out of his bag. It's mostly made out of rope, and Ryan thinks it must be for fetch. "Not inside," he says, and they go into the yard, and Ryan throws the toy, and Wilfred fetches, and at one point there's a tug-of-war, and it's not until later that Ryan realizes he had a good time. For a little while he even forgot that Wilfred's not a dog.

***

Ryan's going crazy. There's a guy who keeps showing up at his place in a dog suit. For a while there Ryan even started looking forward to Wilfred's visits. But seriously. What the hell is going on?

Ryan needs answers. He charges resolutely over to Jenna's house and knocks on the door. It's not until he's standing there that he realizes Jenna isn't home, and he panics. What if Wilfred's there alone? What if he's in his dog suit -- what if he's always in his dog suit? What if he's not? What if--

Wilfred opens the door. He's wearing briefs with SpongeBob Squarepants on them and yellow socks and nothing else. "Ryan! My man, come on in!" he says cheerfully, a cigarette dangling between his lips, and Ryan feels like he's been clobbered over the head. "Want a beer?"

Ryan has absolutely no idea what to say to that. Wilfred's hair is dark and sort of floppy. It's usually hidden by the hood.

"I'm watchin' Baywatch," Wilfred calls from the kitchen. A fridge door opens and closes. There's a fizz of the cap being twisted off a bottle. He emerges again and proffers the beer. "I must say, the show has aged pretty well. Pamela Anderson -- still a total babe." He flops back on the couch with a sigh.

"No," Ryan says decisively. Wilfred looks up at him in surprise. "No, you do not get to do this. You do not get to pretend like everything is normal and you're just some regular slacker surfer dude with an attitude problem." He feels himself working into a rage and is pretty helpless to stop it. "We need to talk. And we need to, to... negotiate, and... your kink is okay--"

Wilfred snorts. "Someone's been doing their research. Look, man, I thought we were... on the same page. Seemed like you knew what you were doing." He shrugs, takes a swig of beer and looks back at the TV.

Ryan goes to block Pamela Anderson giving a man mouth-to-mouth. "What I'm doing? What I'm doing!" He knows he sounds shrill. "I have no clue what I'm doing, and frankly I'm not sure I want to be doing it at all!"

Wilfred gives him a look. "Come on, man. I've seen the way you look. You're enjoying it. Gives you a sense of purpose. When we played fetch -- you were _smiling_." He says this with a pleased emphasis.

"I need to... feel my legs," Ryan says and sits down on the floor.

"So, it's unconventional. So what. Screw conventions. Do what makes you happy." Wilfred spreads his arms wide.

There's something in Ryan that he thinks is saying it absolutely agrees with Wilfred. He gets up and goes to the door. "I'm going home now." He goes across the street, through the hallway and gets into bed without even removing his shoes.

***

"Ryan, you have to get up. How long have you even been there? Your hair looks awful. Ugh, you need a shower... Are you wearing shoes?" He tries to block his sister out, but Kristen's voice will cut through any amount of blankets and pillows. "Ryan. Please get up?" Great, Ryan thinks, now with the guilt. He squeezes his eyes shut and burrows in.

The door bell rings. His blood turns to ice. What if it's Wilfred? He lies absolutely still, listening to Kristen's steps through the house. They sound like a count down.

"Um, hello?" she says dubiously. Oh God, oh God, what is he going to do? He's never going to live this down.

"Hiya, I'm looking for Ryan!" It's Wilfred, but he's speaking. He never speaks when he's wearing the suit. Does he? Ryan's muscles unclench slightly.

"Ryan's not feeling well. Who are you?"

"I'm a friend. Just stopped by to say hello. Haven't seen him in a couple of days."

"Ryan doesn't have friends," Kristen replies. She's got a point there, Ryan thinks.

"Nonsense, he's got me!" There's a brief scuffle, and then heavy footsteps are coming closer. "You in here, mate? There you-- Jesus fucking Christ on a shovel, you look like absolute horse shit. Don't you know what a shower is? Fuck me, man, this is rank."

"Leave me alone," Ryan calls, eyes firmly shut.

"No way, man. Thought you were just feeling a little bruised on the ego, didn't figure you were downright catatonic. Come on, get up." The covers are rudely yanked away, and Ryan curls into a ball. "Are you wearing shoes, mate? Bloody layabout." He pulls at his arm and gets him into a sitting position. "I will throw you under the shower with all your clothes on if you don't show some initiative, mate. And then I'll join you."

Ryan goes to take a shower. As he passes down the hallway he thinks he hears Kristen mutter a thank you to Wilfred.

***

It's like it always is after one of his bad spells. Phone calls, surprise visits, enthusiastic outings to the park or the grocery store, cooking sessions meant both to 'take his mind off things' and get him to eat. Except this time, it's not just Kristen who is constantly dropping in to spread good cheer and ostensibly check his wrists for cut marks. Wilfred's there, too, and he is persistent.

"I don't need you to come around all the time. I'm fine. I can even feed myself," Ryan sighs as he lets Wilfred in. He's carrying a bag full of Chinese take-away, and the greasy smell is making Ryan queasy.

"Never mind you. What if I'm the one who needs the company?" Wilfred's clattering around in the kitchen, getting out plates and silverware. Ryan is familiar with the tactic: meals should be eaten at the dining table, using proper utensils, in order to encourage conversation.

He trails after Wilfred and finds him holding the water bowl, staring at it with a far-away expression. Ryan doesn't know what to say.

"Is it actually so impossible for you to believe that I might really be sort of selfish about this? Maybe I just want you to get better so it can be my turn to get a bit of a break." Wilfred sounds almost angry as he says it, and Ryan feels like shit for a whole new, very concrete reason. Then Wilfred puts the bowl away and takes everything to the dining table.

Ryan follows meekly and makes sure to eat an entire platter of noodles.

Wilfred is still packing away, popping spring rolls like there's a competition, when Ryan says, "Why do you even want me? I thought you and Jenna had a thing."

Wilfred snorts. "Jenna's awesome. We met through a club. She knows what it's about. When I needed a place to crash, she offered." He's staring at the spring rolls, picking out the next one. "But I like hanging out here." He looks up and meets Ryan's eyes dead on. He sighs. "But you know what, if you just want me to get the hell out of your life, just say so."

Ryan doesn't say so. He says, "What kind of club?" and Wilfred flashes him a toothy grin.

***

So Ryan starts feeling a little less like the world is a big black hole trying to suck him under and a little more like things are mostly gray and boring. Which is as close as Ryan ever gets to 'normal'.

Wilfred is around all the time, and it's obvious he's in a retaliatory mood. He starts stealing anything that isn't tied down; Ryan's clothes, the newspaper. He pulls the couch cushions on to the floor. He barks like a maniac. On one memorable occasion he even manages to bury Ryan's shoe in the back yard. Ryan yells a lot and Wilfred barks back and rolls on his back like he thinks they're having an awesome time.

Eventually Ryan actually does go online to look up some obedience exercises. All the websites stress that it's important not to yell. And they recommend liver treats, but somehow Ryan just doesn't see it. He ends up buying a bulk of jelly beans and starts keeping a handful in his pocket at all times.

Wilfred's pretty good at the Hello trick, but he's really lousy at Wait. Ryan tries teaching him to roll over, but it mostly ends up with lots of belly rubs.

It takes his mind off things.

***

Wilfred is much more pleasant to be around when he's not talking. Most of his conversation seems to focus on daytime television or food, and he’s always cramming as many swear words into a sentence as possible. Sometimes it makes Ryan a little tired.

He's grateful that Wilfred has a home to go to, so he can be alone sometimes, but usually he ends up missing the obedience training before long. They're up to Heel now.

Then one day Wilfred saunters in without knocking and plops onto the couch. "So. I was thinking whether I could move in here." He puts his feet on the coffee table and doesn't look at Ryan.

Ryan stares. "I thought... you were living with Jenna."

"I am, it's just a little crowded now that her boyfriend's coming over all the time."

"Jenna has a boyfriend?" Ryan feels like this is information he really should have been privy to.

Wilfred snorts. "Yeah, she does. Been together about a month now? Tall fellow, sandy hair? Likes chains. He can get really loud. It's sort of impossible for me to sleep." Ryan tries to think about chains. About Jenna tying someone up in chains. He succeeds all to easily. "Anyway, I've already mooched off her hospitality long enough. Time to move on the next mug, eh?" He's smiling, but his eyes are serious.

Ryan nods. "Yeah. I guess."

***

And that's how he's standing in the door way watching his living room being taken over by a heap of dirty and clean laundry, a large assortment of doggie chew toys, and a banged-up moving box full of assorted DVDs and magazines.

"It's so great of you to take him in," Mike says with a large sunny smile on his face. "I mean, it's not that we don't enjoy having him around, but the house gets a little small once in a while, you know?" Mike is Jenna's boyfriend. He's tall and looks like a body builder, and he would probably beat Mary Poppins in a cheerfulness competition. Ryan can see how getting tied down and beat up regularly will do that to a guy.

He can hear Jenna and Wilfred chattering away in the bedroom, and that's when it strikes him that he doesn't know where Wilfred's going to sleep.

Jenna and Mike stay around for dinner. They leave hand in hand, with identical ridiculous grins on their faces. Ryan stands in the middle of the living room. Wilfred just looks at him. Then he goes into the bedroom and emerges a little later in the suit. Ryan doesn't actually sigh, but he feels something lift from him, a tension he hadn't known he was holding.

They watch TV, Wilfred in his usual spot. He sleeps fitfully, twists around a little, yawns, but mostly he just lies quietly and stares into space. Ryan tries to pay attention to the CSI marathon and rubs his foot over Wilfred's side because he's too lazy to bend down to pat him.

It gets late, so late that they're both of them weaving slightly as they make it to the bedroom. Ryan crawls in and Wilfred sits by the side of the bed and looks at him. Ryan sighs, "Okay. Just this once." The mattress bounces as Wilfred takes up the other side of the bed.

In the morning, Wilfred is conked out, stretched on his back and snoring loudly. Ryan thinks it should be weird seeing a grown man in a dog suit sleeping in his bed, but it just isn't. So he goes to make coffee.

***

Kristen finally manages to set him up with another job. It's the dullest job Ryan has ever had. In fact, it's so dull he can't believe it's a real thing. His hands are filled with paper cuts, and he thinks he's starting to dream about shredding and copying.

In a couple of week's time, it's starting to wear him down, and he keeps coming home to Wilfred sprawled on the couch in his underwear, and there's a rage building, a sort of ineffectual, directionless hate rolling in his stomach that makes him surly and agitated. He wants to be alone. He wants to scream. He wants to sleep for a month.

When he's working he tries to tell himself that quitting is not an option. He needs the money. He needs to be able to pay rent or he'll have to go back home. Going home is not an option. Besides, he's got Wilfred now, and there's certainly no room for him at his parents' place.

He can feel himself gearing up for something as he's rolling up the driveway. A rage attack. A shit fit. He tries not to slam the car door, but it still gives a resounding clang, and he's already thinking about Wilfred on the couch, Wilfred with dishes piled high, Wilfred who'll complain about how bored he's been. He tears the door open and slams it shut behind him. He's already opening his mouth, ready to start spewing invective, but Wilfred's not on the couch.

Wilfred's sitting expectantly on the floor and he comes up quietly, wagging his tail gently and nudging Ryan's hand. Ryan stares blankly at the living room. "Good boy," he mutters, before his knees are giving way and he's crashing on to the floor, gathering Wilfred close and holding on tight. They stay like that for a long time, Ryan hiding his face in Wilfred's rough fur, and Wilfred just sighs quietly and waits him out.

***

"So, you're living with Wilfred now," his sister says, eyeing him closely. They're at the dining table, and for once Wilfred isn't home. There was a scribbled note on the fridge saying he'd gone out with Jenna and Mike.

"Yeah, he needed a place to crash," Ryan shrugs.

"So... where does he sleep?" she asks.

Ryan stills. He thinks that it's probably weird that two guys share a bed, but it's really not like that. He doesn't want to have sex with Wilfred, and from Wilfred's devotion to breasts, he doesn't exactly think it's on his list either. And it's not like Ryan's missing out on anything; he's never really been a very... active guy. He thinks it might be a depression thing, but he's never really thought about it.

"I'm not saying there's anything wrong with that," Kristen emphasizes. "You seem... better. If I didn't know you so well I might even say you looked happy," she jokes and pretend-punches his arm.

Ryan's pretty sure this is not what "happy" is supposed to look like, but then he remembers Wilfred telling him, "Screw conventions," and he might actually smile a little. Kristen kisses him on the cheek and hugs him tight.

***

end


End file.
